


Stating Nothing but the Obvious

by fab_ia



Series: the bed that we made together [3]
Category: Time Bombs (Podcast)
Genre: Multi, bed sharing, discussions of bed sharing, stating the obvious, you guessed it - it's fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_ia/pseuds/fab_ia
Summary: '“I have something to say,” he declares over dinner one evening.“What’s new there?” Bob says.'Plus: things everyone already knew, sulking, laughing fits, and ridiculous questions.
Relationships: Robert "Radio Bob" Hansen/Simon Teller/Mark Midland
Series: the bed that we made together [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118591
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Stating Nothing but the Obvious

The topic of sleeping arrangements comes up far quicker than the topic of their relationship had - as in, it takes three days as opposed to almost the full month Midland had been suffering through. It’s been obvious for the entire time that Teller’s half-desperately holding back something he  _ desperately  _ wants to talk about - he’s never, Midland’s discovered over the time they’ve worked together, been a man who can in any way be described as ‘subtle’ - but both Bob and Midland have been resolutely ignoring it in part because Bob insists it’s best for him to work through whatever it is without any outside influence and the fact that Midland, really, cannot figure out how the hell he’s meant to help Teller with something when he doesn’t know what the man’s thinking half the time. 

“I have something to say,” he declares over dinner one evening, setting the bowl he’d been eating from down. It may well be the most serious Midland’s seen him in a while, judging by the set of his jaw, but the whole picture is more than a little ruined by the fluffy sweater he’s wearing and his mismatched socks. 

“What’s new there?” Bob says, sighing whatever he’d just managed to get a forkful of promptly slips off and falls back into the dinner. “You’ve always got something to say.”

“This is different,” Teller says, almost insistent. “This is about sleeping.”

Instead of groaning like he really,  _ really  _ wants to, Midland closes his eyes and counts to three before he opens them again to give Teller as calm a look as he possibly can. “Is this,” he starts, “about how I woke you up this morning because we  _ had to go to work.” _

“Midland,” Teller says, “I’m offended you think I could be so petty as to -“

Bob clears his throat, pointedly, and Teller cuts himself off to tug the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands a little more. 

“It’s not about that,” Teller says in a way that makes Midland think that he’d forgotten about it and is now annoyed by it but won’t bother to say anything, waving one of his hands in the air and having the sleeve immediately ride up again.  _ Miracles are real,  _ Midland thinks, and leans back in what he’s claimed as his usual spot on the couch to watch Teller figure out how to actually talk about the issue he’s found. 

“It’s…” he trails off. Sighs. “I like being the - little spoon.”

He almost cuts off the last part of the word ‘spoon’ entirely, snapping his mouth shut and looking pointedly away in an attempt to pretend his face hasn’t immediately gone scarlet. Silently, Midland looks over to Bob, who looks equally as unimpressed as he feels. 

“Yes,” Bob says, slowly, because that much has always been obvious. “And?”

“What - what d’you mean,  _ and?” _

“I mean - we know that. Why have you been trying to figure out how to tell us this for three days?”

The realization that Teller’s an idiot shouldn’t be a surprise at this point, since he does something to serve as a reminder of the fact practically every single day of his life, but Midland still finds himself caught off-guard by the fact that he’s been struggling to tell his boyfriends that he likes being held. That he’s been struggling to tell them something they’d both realized a long time ago, given how he practically demands that they’re touching at all times. 

_ Maybe he thought  _ that  _ was being subtle,  _ he thinks, and forces himself to start coughing to cover up the laughter he can’t keep down at the look of utter confusion on Teller’s face when compared to the completely blank one on Bob’s. 

“You…” Bob shakes his head. “No, I - please tell me that you aren’t  _ actually  _ that ridiculous, boss.”

“How did you - how’d you know?”

“I can’t breathe,” Midland wheezes, now practically bent in half with his head down by his knees as he tries to remind himself how his lungs should work. “You’re so  _ dumb.” _

“Hey,” Teller says, the tone of it so obviously a whine that Midland has to cover his mouth to stop himself laughing even harder. “It isn’t funny!”

“No,” Bob says, voice flat but tight, because he’s clearly doing a hell of a lot better at stopping himself laughing at Teller than Midland is. “It isn’t funny, it’s  _ hilarious.” _

* * *

Teller, as he does, had started to sulk after he realized Midland’s coughing fit was actually his attempt to stop himself from breaking into hysterics and that his tears were from laughing  _ at  _ him rather than any degree of sympathy towards him. After getting him a glass of water and patting him on the back a few times - and kissing his forehead, which Midland privately thinks is probably what helped the most in his recovery from violent laughter - Bob takes a picture of how Teller’s pulled his legs up to his chest and is glaring at the floor, texting it to Midland along with a picture of a cat doing much the same thing that leads to him inhaling the water he’d been trying to drink and bursting into a far more legitimate coughing fit. 

“You’re killing me,” he chokes out, “you’re  _ killing your boyfriend,  _ Bob.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Bob says, passing him a paper towel, “I have a spare.”

“My blood’s on your hands.”

“Eh, I’ll wear gloves.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Midland can see Teller staring at them with his chin almost on his own shoulder, eyes soft, although he hurriedly turns his face away to keep up his impression of a four-year-old as soon as Bob comes near him. He doesn’t resist when Bob tilts his head up with two fingers before leaning in for a kiss, instead relaxing into it and resting one of his hands on his arm. 

“Hey,” Bob says, “you done?”

“Are  _ you  _ done bullying me?”

“I don’t think you want the answer to that,” Bob says seriously. Teller sighs, but he nods, smiling into another kiss as Midland wipes at his nose and scowls at the wet spot on his shirt. He pauses in cleaning himself up to watch Teller kissing Bob because, in his opinion, it’s a very nice view. They fit together well, as if practiced and well-versed in the art of kissing each other, while Midland still feels a little clumsy in comparison to Bob’s almost-effortless grace. Teller kisses in the same way he works with an IED he’s particularly impressed by, which should honestly serve as a warning sign against the relationship, but that Midland appreciates as a good measure of how much Teller cares about the two of them.

“Wow,” Bob says, “I love you.”

“Even though I’m an idiot?” Teller asks, raising an eyebrow as he grins. 

“Tragically.”

“Even though I’m whiny?”

“It’s very unfortunate.”

“Even though -“

“I think the answer’s always gonna be ‘yes’,” Midland says, enjoying the way Teller snickers at it. “You’re stuck with us, man.”

“As if I’d complain about that,” Teller says. “Just like  _ you’re  _ stuck sleeping in the middle of me and Bob at night.”

Midland had resigned himself to this fact the first time it happened, because Bob had told him in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t want to sleep with his back to someone and he’d already guessed that Teller would be the exact opposite of it. 

“Oh, yeah,” Midland says, his reputation suddenly coming back to him, “shit, what a, uh, what a shame.”

“It’s not a job I’d ever want,” Teller says, a wild grin firmly in place as he talks. “My feet get really,  _ really  _ cold at night.”

Again - not a surprise. Midland’s reasonably sure Teller’s long-since lost the ability to actually surprise him with facts about himself, considering his tendency to overshare and the fact he’s about as easy to read as a book for kindergarteners. 

* * *

The issue that comes with the sleeping arrangement isn’t one Midland actually thought would be an issue until the first night it happens and he realizes that, shit, he hadn’t considered the fact his boyfriends are  _ like this.  _

“Hey, Bob,” Teller whispers, “you up?”

“Mmhm,” Bob hums, vibrating against Midland’s back. Midland, who’s sandwiched between them in a way that means it’s impossible for him to get out and who  _ had  _ been trying to sleep until they’d decided to have a conversation at one-thirty in the morning. 

“You ever wonder if birds look at us and think ‘I wish I could walk’ the same way people look at them and think ‘shit, wish I could fly’?”

Midland groans.

“Nah,” Bob says. “I mean, birds  _ can  _ walk, it’s just easier for them to fly but we can only walk, so it’s different.”

Midland groans a little louder. 

“Oh, yeah,” Teller says, “what about - penguins, and shit, you think they’re jealous of other birds?”

“Maybe? I mean, how many other birds  _ are  _ there in Antarctica, anyway? Are they actually gonna see other birds to know they should be able to fly?”

“Hey,” Midland mumbles, voice muffled as a result of his face being pressed against Teller’s back, “are  _ you  _ gonna see the time and know you should shut up and go to sleep?”

The two pause for a few seconds of blissful silence and Midland tries to pretend it isn’t the biggest relief in the world to have them stop talking - he loves them, he  _ does,  _ but he might love them a little less if they’re going to keep -

“I did say you should buy earplugs,” Teller says.

“I thought you meant ‘cause you snored,” Midland whines, pulling him a little closer and letting out a deliberately-dramatic sob.  _ “Please  _ let me sleep.”

“It isn’t even that late,” Bob mutters, but they fall silent again. 

It’s perfect, and Midland’s never been so content, comfortable between the two of them. Before he even knows it, he’s already halfway to falling asleep, dozing and just focusing on the steady breathing he can feel on either side of him. Teller yawns and Bob shuffles a little closer to him, and it’s  _ absolutely perfect  _ for a few seconds more, until -

“Do you think that lizards know about dragons?”

**Author's Note:**

> the cat meme i'm talking about is 'no talk me im angy' just so you all know
> 
> this whole thing was inspired by art by @yourdeadprince on instagram that i stared at and thought 'hey, you know what would be a really funny concept for this scenario?' and you can find that art here: https://www.instagram.com/p/CHv3EDFlB8N/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link  
> and should also ABSOLUTELY check out all their other art too (please don't @ me for my total lack of any HTML knowledge i am not bright)


End file.
